Page 7 of The Secret to a Southern Wedding

“Order number forty-two,” the girl behind the glass called.

That was Imani’s number. She gave the guy one last glance. He watched her. His sexy lips curved in a grin that made her stomach flip. She returned his smile before going to get her food.

Imani grabbed her stuff and slid to the end of the bar where the ketchup and mustard sat. She tried to squirt mustard on her corn dog but nothing came out. Sighing, she shook the container and squeezed harder.

“Excuse me.”

His voice. He was behind her. He’d spoken to her. He was going to make the first move. She spun toward him, a flirty grin prepped.

“Yes...oh no!” Her eyes widened as a line of mustard shot across his shirt.

“Shit,” he muttered and stepped back.

“I’m so sorry.” Imani rushed to put her food on the counter and snatched a bunch of napkins. “Here.”

He took the napkins and dabbed at the mustard on his shirt, but the stain only spread. “Damn,” he said under his breath.

“I’ll pay for it. Just let me know how much.”

He shook his head and when he met her gaze, the flirty look from before was replaced with annoyance. “It’s all good.”

“Did you want anything?”

“I was going to ask for napkins.” He held up the ones in his hand. “I’ll just use these.”

“Order number forty-three,” the girl behind the window called.

He gave her one last irritated look before turning and getting his ice cream. He then walked away without a backward glance.

Imani watched him walk to his car and drive away. She let out a long breath and looked up at the fluffy white clouds in the blue sky. If this was how her time in Peachtree Cove was starting, she did not have high hopes for the rest of the trip.

four

Cyril brushed at the bright yellow stain in the middle of his shirt and frowned. Just like the last fifty times the stain didn’t shrink, fade or magically disappear. He shifted from one foot to the next before ringing the doorbell. Visiting his future stepmother for the first time while wearing a stained shirt wasn’t how he would have liked for this to go. Although he knew who Ms. Kemp was and had met her through the Peachtree Cove Business Guild, he didn’t know her well. Their previous interactions were mostly exchanging pleasantries at a guild meeting. This visit would give him the chance to get to know more about her and, hopefully, make a good impression. For his father’s sake. If his dad was happy enough to try his hand at marriage again, then Cyril was going to do his best to support him.

The door opened and Ms. Kemp stood on the other side. She was average height, with a curvy figure and short, stylish hair. A welcoming smile brought out the dimples in her cheeks and the same nervousness churning in his midsection reflected in her tawny brown eyes. Eyes that reminded him of the woman who’d squirted him earlier. For a moment he’d believed in the stories his dad had talked about, of seeing his mom and knowing immediately she was the woman for him. Cyril’s eyes had met the mystery woman’s and his pulse raced, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her and all he’d wanted was to get to know everything about her. Then she’d squirted mustard on him.

His dad shifted from where he stood a few feet behind Ms. Kemp. Cyril pulled his thoughts away from fated love fantasies and focused on the reason he was here. Preston rubbed his hands together, one of his nervous gestures, and nodded at Cyril.

“Hello, Cyril, come on in,” Ms. Kemp said in a cheerful voice. She pushed open the glass screen door.

Cyril crossed the threshold. “Sorry I’m late.”

“You’re right on time. Imani hasn’t gotten here yet. She should arrive soon.” Ms. Kemp’s eyes dropped to the stain on his shirt then jumped back up to his face.

Cyril’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. He brushed at the stain again. “Unfortunate mustard incident. I would have gone home to change, but I didn’t want to be too late.”

His dad frowned at the stain. “Mustard incident? You don’t eat mustard. How did it get on your shirt?”

“I stopped at the Dairy Bar. There was a woman there getting a corn dog and she accidentally squirted me.”

Before the mustard attack he had considered the best way to initiate contact. The woman had snatched his breath away. Those eyes, not hazel but a bright, golden brown that seemed to pierce right to his soul. She’d been slender, with slight curves that made his hands curious to explore and a smile that made him think having his soul pierced was a good thing. He hadn’t reacted to a woman like that ever. The jolt of attraction so strong he’d been willing to be late for this dinner if it meant getting her number. He shouldn’t have been rude after she squirted him, but the accident meant he would show up here looking a mess. That quickly broke lust’s hold on his brain.

“Oh no!” Ms. Kemp exclaimed. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Well, that sucks. I hope she at least apologized.”

Cyril smiled at the affront on her face. She looked like he imagined his mom would have. She too would have been upset that someone dared hurt her “baby” as she used to call him and would’ve immediately asked if the person apologized. Though the gesture was small, the tiny resemblance to his mom helped him understand why his dad had fallen for her so quickly.

“She did. It’s over now, and the mustard will come out in the wash.”

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